


Forged with Fire

by turtleduckcrossing



Category: Linked Universe - Fandom, The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms, The Legend of Zelda: Four Swords, The Legend of Zelda: The Minish Cap
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Blood, Bonding, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Family Drama, Family Secrets, Flashbacks, Fluff, Found Family, Four angst, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, I thought it would be fun to explore Four's psyche, Just bear that in mind, Linked Universe (Legend of Zelda), Mental Breakdown, Mental Illness, Mental Instability, My goodness this got dark, Panic Attacks, Psychosis, Spoiler: most of these heavy tags are for a character other than the Links, Until it's very much Not, Violence, Wild angst, injuries, light humor, so that's exactly what I did
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-31
Updated: 2019-09-06
Packaged: 2020-10-04 06:56:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20466890
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/turtleduckcrossing/pseuds/turtleduckcrossing
Summary: Four counted himself pretty lucky. He was young, healthy, and a skilled blacksmith to boot. He even considered himself to be pretty capable when it came to all things “hero.” So, naturally, when he notices a certain struggling member of his crew, Four decides to lend him his friendship and support.But when an impending crisis threatens to derail everything he had worked to build, little did Four know that it was him who’d soon be needing help.~A study of Four’s psyche and how it relates to Wild.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> _To Four, I dedicate this fic._   
_May the number of chapters in this story forever honor your name._   
_Oh, and dedicated to Wild too, because he’s another precious boy who deserves the world._
> 
> Linked Universe belongs to Linked Universe/Jojo56830

The series of colossal waterfalls emptying and feeding into Lake Hylia were an incredible force of nature—truly a magnificent sight. Dense clouds of mist refracted beams of light in every direction, dispersing beautiful bows of color across the water. The sun beat brightly down on the disturbed lake, an invitation for all forms of life to emerge and be warmed by its rays.

The Hero of the Four Sword smiled, blissfully content. This was home.

He sat in partial shade underneath a large maple tree close to the lakeshore, mindful of his sensitive skin. With arms lazily resting across bent, upright knees, he gazed out toward the water’s edge and spied his traveling companions—friends that had become dear to him on what he’d like to call another crazy adventure. Most of them lounged lazily in the shallows, floating on their backs or grabbing onto thick, felled branches halfway submerged in water. A few strayed closer to land, opting to sit cross-legged on the pebbly shore or stand in ankle-deep water as they chatted comfortably with each other.

_Good,_ Four thought. _We deserve a break after going nonstop for so long._

Upon second glance, however, he noticed that one of them remained slightly apart from the rest of the group, alone in the water.

Four studied the prone figure curiously. The straggler lay spread-eagled on his back, eyes closed as he let the tide wash over him on the shore. His long sun-colored hair fanned out around his head, bobbing and swaying like tendrils of underwater seaweed.

_…This again?_

Four shut his eyes and rolled his head, loosening the stiff muscles in his neck. He hopped to his feet and stretched downwards, removing his traveling booties and socks and kicking them toward the base of the tree. He threw off the checkered outer layer of his hooded tunic, tossing it in the direction of his shoes, and rolled up his stretchy brown pants as high as they allowed. Gingerly, he began making his way out toward the water, cautious of twigs and sharp rocks that littered the shore.

As the small hero approached, his partially submerged companion gave no sign of noticing. A slick sheen of water shone on his bare chest, which rose and fell steadily to the rhythm of his meditative breathing. Four came near and stood to the side of his comrade, looking down with amusion as water sloshed around his ankles.

“Hey, Wild. You’re gonna drift out to sea if you don’t tether yourself to shore.”

The older teen continued basking in the shallows, ears engulfed and oblivious to his surroundings. Four raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms incredulously.

“Wild, you in there?”

… 

_“Wild.”_

He kicked water onto the prostrate form below him, lightly splashing his face. Alert, the Hero of the Wild shot up out of the water, rubbing the long hair out of his eyes before glancing up and meeting the gaze of his expectant ally.

“Oh. Hey, Four.”

A few seconds of silence ticked by before the corner of Four’s mouth quirked up in an amused grin. “Glad to have you back with us.” Smirking, he leaned back to sit against a moss-covered boulder, resting his hands on his knees. “I was beginning to think you were growing bored of my Hyrule already.”

Copying his companion, Wild reclined back into the water and rested his hands on his stomach, blinking when the water rose too close to his eyes. “I could never grow bored of this, Four. It’s beautiful here.”

Four twirled his finger around his Minish earring, playing with the feathers. “Yeah. Especially when you’re bone-tired from running around Warrior’s world for so long. I swear, it’s too much over there.”

Wild smiled weakly in agreement. They had only just appeared there that morning, once again teleported out of their control. It was a well-met reprieve when the welcoming shores of a beautiful Lake Hylia greeted their vision after what seemed like countless hours of running themselves to the ground in Warrior’s Hyrule.

Now it seemed they could finally find a respite in Four’s homeland—albeit temporary.

The younger teen stared inquisitively at the hero in the water, who was adopting his pensive stance from before. Four continued fingering his earring, searching for something to say.

“So… what next?”

Wild blinked up at his companion. Suddenly, he lifted himself partly out of the water, propping himself up with his elbows. He gave his head a rapid shake, sending water droplets flying. Four scrunched up his nose, turning his face away from the spray.

“Isn’t this your Hyrule?” Wild asked, sweeping his drenched bangs back with one hand. “I assumed we’d just follow your lead.”

“Yeah… except for one major detail,” Four replied, wiping water off his face. “Last time I was here going through this, I distinctly remember being told everything I’d have to do. And now? Total silence.”

Wild tilted his head to the side, thinking. “You’re telling me. Granted, I didn’t have much after I woke from the Shrine of Resurrection, but I definitely had more guidance than we’re getting now.”

“No kidding.” Four shook his head, baffled. “My quests were so structured that going into town seemed like a vacation. Now that’s all we seem to do.” He recalled Ezlo’s pestering advice constantly sounding off in his ear: _Link, go there. Link, do this. Link, be careful there, and, for the sake of all that was holy, take pains to remember what I’m telling you!_

Now they were lucky if they had any leads at all.

Four readjusted his position on the rock, aware of the water soaking through his pants. “I’m not too worried yet, though. We’ll figure it out,” he reassured his friend with a smile. “That’s what we’re good at, right?”

The Hero of the Wild glanced up at his companion, a small smile of his own lighting up his face. “Yeah.”

Content, Four looked out across the lake. The roar of the bordering waterfalls resounded in his ears, a pleasant white noise mixed with the joyful chirping of birds in the neighboring trees. After a moment of pondering, he turned back to Wild with a resolute expression, his mind decided.

“So actually, I’ve been thinking—”

“Mind if I join?”

Both boys peered toward the source of the new voice. Looking in his element, the Hero of Twilight glided smoothly across the water, approaching them from a deeper section of lake where the rest of their group lounged. Upon reaching shallower waters, he slid up to his long-haired ally and crawled forward onto his stomach, propped up by his elbows.

Wild greeted his mentor with a smile. “Hey, Twi.”

“Hey.” Twilight grimaced, massaging his arms. “Ow… this can’t be comfortable for you guys,” the blue-eyed hero complained, throwing an angular pebble away toward deeper water. “There aren’t nearly as many rocks deeper in. You should come join us over there.”

Four rose to his feet, abandoning his seat on the boulder. “Nah, I should head back. I’ll get fried if I’m out in the sun like this for much longer.”

“Yeah, I get you,” Twilight said, looking down at the tan lines that criss-crossed his skin. “This is what I get for working on the ranch long days without any sun protection. Maybe I’ll take a leaf out of your book.”

“Hey, Twilight! Wait up!”

Wind spluttered along in Twilight’s wake, swimming toward their growing company with haste. The young boy with thick yellow hair reached the shore and stood, gripping the sides of his arms. “Geez, you swim fast.” He danced in place, trying to warm himself from the chill of the breeze. “Why aren't you guys over there with the rest of us? Are we not good enough for you anymore? I thought we were _friends_.”

Four squinted back at the group members left behind, who gradually began making their way over as well.

“We _are_ friends, Wind,” Twilight countered, rolling his eyes. “We’re all friends,” he added, gesturing towards Four and Wild.

“Really?” Wild chuckled, playfully looking over at the older hero. “I’m not just an insufferable student to you?”

Twilight stared blankly at his protégé, disbelieving. Then, without warning, he shoved the younger teen’s shoulder, causing Wild to fall back into the water laughing.

“Anyway,” the Hero of Winds moped, wringing out the hem of his wet boxers, “what do you guys reckon we should do now? I’m kinda sick of playing in the water.”

“That’s what Wild and I were just discussing,” Four replied, pacing slowly in the water. “We figured we’d be here for a while since we just arrived this morning. Why don’t we take it easy for the day, catch up with—”

“Aw, seriously?” Wind pouted, kicking water in frustration. “But look at all these awesome waterfalls! There must be tons of caves lying around this place, isn’t there Four? Why don’t we check those out?”

“Yeah, Four,” the Hero of Warriors teased, reaching land. The rest of the party trailed closely behind and followed him out of the water, dripping wet. “Legend says that there’s treasure behind every waterfall in Hyrule, and in order to get to it you have to kill a Zora.”

“I never said that, airhead,” the pink-haired hero in question quipped, shuffling his feet in the water as he approached. “Get your facts straight.”

Warrior pulled a face, eyeing the Hero of Legend with irritation. “It’s an _expression_, you—”

“As I was saying,” Four persisted, ignoring their banter, “I have a house that’s not too far from here, and there should be enough room for us all. Let’s rest up for a bit. Quite frankly, Warrior, running around in your kingdom for so long has me wiped.”

Murmurs of agreement answered around the group. Warrior sighed and raked his hands through his wet hair, styling it out of his eyes. “I hear you, Wiped. Not my fault Sky’s infected lizalfos had to come and rain on our parade in _my_ Hyrule, though.”

The smallest member of their team shrugged and continued providing his input. “Plus, I don’t think it’d be too much of a crime to have a day for ourselves after these rough couple of weeks.”

Four’s eyes darted briefly over to their designated leader, almost as if seeking permission. The Hero of Time extended a hand permissively, allowing Four to continue.

Satisfied, the small hero looked back to the group. “Which brings me to what I’ve been wanting to say.”

Moving past his friends, Four approached one hero who was still lying in the water. Wild looked up and met his smaller comrade’s gaze, uncertain.

“Wild,” Four stated matter-of-factly, “we’re finally back in my Hyrule, and I think it’s time.” He took a breath and set his jaw, prepared for what he was about to propose. “I’d like to forge a proper sword for you.”

Four’s offer was met with silence, his words registering in the minds of each group member. Wind and Hyrule met each other’s shocked gazes, breaking out in wide grins; Sky’s entire face beamed; Warrior nodded appreciatively and Legend looked over at Wild, gauging his reaction; Time crossed his arms, a genuine smile turning the corners of his mouth; and Twilight supportively clasped his protégé’s shoulder, awaiting his response.

Wild was frozen in shock, open-mouthed. He turned to his mentor with the same astonished expression, stumped. Twilight only smiled, raising his eyebrows in anticipation. The long-haired hero quickly shut his mouth and turned back to Four, his head bowed timidly. 

“You… you really want to do that? For me?”

“I do. It’s high time you had a dependable weapon, and I’m pretty confident I can deliver. And I mean, we’re here, aren’t we?” Four said, cocking his head. “My grandfather says his forge is as much mine as it is his. Might as well capitalize on the moment.”

The Hero of the Wild dropped his gaze, twisting his amber locks. For a few precious moments, he chewed the inside of his cheek, seeming to debate with himself. Then, gradually, his eyes locked onto Four’s once again, shining with gratitude.

“I would be honored, Four. Thank you.”

Whoops and cheers rang out across Lake Hylia, a joyful feeling permeating the warm afternoon air. Pleased, Four gave a single nod of acceptance, acknowledging Wild’s gracious thanks. He jerked his head toward shore to indicate his intentions and began heading back to land. 

As the group made their way on dry ground to towel off and dress, Four mentally reviewed his decision, committed to presenting a sturdy and worthwhile weapon befitting his friend.

_If there’s anything Wild deserves,_ Four thought as he sat down to replace his boots on his feet, _it’s something that will last._

* * *

The Hero of the Wild wasted no time preparing a delectable dinner that evening. Buoyed up by the events that transpired from their lake swim, the champion arranged a savory prime meat curry dish, using an array of spices and fresh ingredients from a successful hunt. Four’s grandfather generously allowed them to stay and use the kitchen as needed, and as a way of thanks, they all tucked in around the dining table—Grandfather Smith included—happy to share stories alongside a delicious meal.

As cleanup commenced, Four slipped away to prepare his long-awaited workstation, hoping to get a head start on his project. He entered the adjoining room and, as he surveyed his warehouse for the first time in months, felt his heart leap in his chest.

_It’s been so long, my friend..._

Thrilled, the young smithy trotted over to inspect his firebrick forge, ensuring that all the necessary pieces of equipment were in proper working order. After clearing out old ash and clinker from the firepot and depositing useable bits of coal on the hearth, he began building his fire. He gathered small bits of kindling and set it aside; then, using flint and knife, he scraped bits of magnesium into a small pile and struck the flint, creating a spark. The shavings caught the spark, providing him ample opportunity to feed the kindling inside the firepot. And…

_Bingo._

As the young blacksmith began working the bellows to feed the lit furnace, the creak of a door alerted him to an unseen presence off to his right. The blur of long blonde hair disappearing behind the barrier was an obvious indicator of just who it was who lurked out of sight. 

Four couldn’t help but bite back a snicker. Amused, he rested a hand on his cocked hip and faced the door.

“You don’t have to be sneaky about it, Wild,” Four giggled, tilting his head kindly. “You can come inside. I don’t bite.”

There was a brief pause before the champion garbed in blue pushed open the door, peeking inside. Cautiously, the long-haired boy crossed the threshold and shut the door softly behind him.

“That’s it,” Four reassured, turning back to his workstation. “You can take a seat right there. I’m just building up the fire at the moment.”

Wild’s intrepid eyes roved the room as he moved toward the indicated chair close to where Four worked, taking in the sight of the wheezing bellows and roaring forge fire. He took his place on the chair, gripping the sides of the seat with both feet planted firmly on the floor.

Four donned thick padded gloves and returned to the fire, not at all minding his company. When the fire reached an appropriate size, he began pushing coal from the hearth around the perimeter of the firepot, ensuring they were heated by the flame. Tendrils of smoke began licking up around the flames, feeding into the smokestack. He would have to keep an eye out for the smoke so it would not overwhelm the fire and stunt the coal. He sprinkled water on the outer coal pieces, pleased with the rising steam. Not too overbearing—but just enough to convert the green coal down to the coke he was looking for.

_Now I just need to keep it at this level..._

“Your fire,” Wild commented unexpectedly, yanking Four out of his thoughts. “Why not use a simpler method to get it started?” He shifted in his chair. “I mean… you have fire-based items in your inventory, right?”

Four thoughtfully considered Wild’s question. Sure, he had his flame lantern and even his fire rod. Firing the forge would surely take half the time if he were to have used those...

“I dunno,” the smithy slurred, using his gloved hands to push bits of ready, hot coke into the firepot. “I guess it’s just how Grandfather Smith taught me. Back before questing was a thing.” He looked over at his friend with a smile. “It’s the blacksmith technique. Feels more authentic somehow, you know?”

The older teen nodded, his eyes captivated by Four’s practiced hands. The little hero felt the champion’s eyes glued to him, following the whole process with his stare.

Pleased with the buildup of smouldering coke in the firepot, Four strode toward the assortment of scrap metals and ore he and his grandfather stored in the corner crate. He went straight for a long rectangular piece of steel, running his hands along the sides. He turned to Wild, brandishing the metal in his direction.

“Low carbon steel from Mount Crenel, my friend,” the Hero of the Four Sword grinned, waving the steel in the air. “This won’t be breaking on you anytime soon. Excellent for that perfect wield. Isn’t she a beauty?”

Wild nodded along, pretending to know what the smithy was talking about. Chuckling to himself, Four brought the steel bar over to the forge and laid it flat on the hearth, hovering it above the blazing firepot. 

And now… _hammer time._

As Four heated the metal over the scorching coke, he side-eyed his seated companion. Just like earlier that day, Wild’s attention was cut short and he fell into a trance-like state, staring into the flickering flames. The young smithy shifted his weight between his feet as he considered a question that weighed on his mind. After mulling over different approaches, he gave up and decided to take the plunge outright.

“So… what’s been the deal lately? What happened back there?”

Triggering words.

His companion went deathly still, bright blue eyes widening in surprise. Four could practically hear the cogs turning in his mind, working through a legitimate response.

“Uh… back where?”

“Back at the lake,” Four clarified, turning the steel bar over in the fire. “Both lakes, actually. You know, when you… zoned out.”

Understanding dawned in Wild’s eyes and he looked down, pinching the fabric of his fingerless gloves. He ran his tongue between his teeth, deciding on what to say. “I didn’t zone out today. I was... relaxing.”

“...Relaxing,” Four tested, pulling the steel from the forge. He laid the hot glowing bar on his anvil, securing it with tongs in one hand and gripping a hammer in the other. He began hammering the end first, shaping it into the pointed tip he wanted.

Wild continued fingering his gloves, not making eye contact. He inhaled softly, his shoulders rising with the motion. “Well… I was today, at least.”

It was a lucky thing Four prided himself on his acute sense of hearing—otherwise, he doubted he would have heard Wild’s response over the pounding of his hammer. He looked over, hoping to encourage Wild to continue talking. “And the other time?”

The champion went silent, eyes still downcast. Four bit the inside of his cheek, convinced he went too far. He shouldn’t have pried, it really wasn’t his business. The smithy flipped the bar over, ceaselessly hammering the metal.

“I’m sorry, forget it. I shouldn’t have… I know I’m not Twilight—”

“No, don’t worry about it,” Wild interrupted, sitting up straighter in his chair. “It’s not a secret. It’s just…”

The older hero swept his long hair behind his shoulder and rested his hands in his lap, attempting to sort through whatever was going on in his mind. “It’s just hard to explain sometimes.”

Four nodded and began pounding the length of the bar, flattening it. Wild pressed his lips together, a contemplative look crossing his face.

“These… _episodes_ I have, you guys call them. They’re memories. You know, from my life before.”

The blue-garbed champion paused, heedless of the hammering ringing out in the background. “Things are better now that I’m with you guys, but… I still get flashes of what my life used to be like before the Calamity. What _I_ used to be like. And… it tends to put me in my head.”

Wild slowly rubbed his hands together. “That's what happened that first time by the water. Like I said, it’s not as bad now. But still… it’s not easy to get used to. It’s almost as if… as if…”

Four replaced the hammered steel on the hearth and crossed his arms in contemplation. “Almost as if you’re a stranger to yourself,” he finished.

“Yeah,” Wild confirmed. “And also that you’ve been cheated, because your stranger self was better.”

Both boys froze from the blunt confession. Four stared blatantly at his companion, his brow furrowed in concern. The older hero quickly looked away and wrapped his arms around himself, his cheeks flushed crimson—clearly embarrassed by what he disclosed. 

The smithy frowned at the steel that seared red on the hearth, disturbed. He knew Wild had been working through inner demons—as were they all—but to think that this kind, long-suffering friend of his was plagued by such a negative self image was disheartening.

_If only he could see what we see…_

Four leaned his shoulder against the wall, crossing a foot over the other. “Well… I can’t personally attest to what you were like before your Calamity happened. None of us can,” he murmured, tapping a toe on the floor. “But I _can_ tell you that we like the Wild we have with us now.” He looked towards his companion, a soft smile playing on his lips. “You’d better not change.”

Wild hummed, his cheeks still colored pink. “That’s what Twi always says.”

“He’s right. It’s like what they always say in the smithy,” the younger hero explained, a friendly lilt in his voice. “‘You can’t forge a masterpiece if it hasn't been forged with heat.’”

Though Four didn’t elaborate, his words seemed to strike a chord in his friend. The long-haired champion met the younger teen’s gaze, his brow lifting in realization. He ran a hand through his hair, moved by the meaning behind the analogy.

“I—”

The door banged open and Grandfather Smith entered, wide-eyed and looking more frazzled than Four had seen him in a long time. The small teen leapt away from the wall, his heart rate accelerating in alarm.

“Grandfather Smith? What’s wrong, did something—”

“Link, I just came from the castle. It’s your father. He…”

Grandfather Smith adjusted the green bandana on his sweaty forehead, trembling as he held his grandson’s shocked gaze. 

“He requests to speak with you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :O
> 
> You wouldn't _believe_ the research I did on blacksmithing for this. You are very welcome.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Commence the "nitty-gritty."

_Metallic clanking. Frigid cobblestone. Flickering torchlight. Echoing footsteps._

_Down, down, down._

_Descending._

_Unending…_

_He clutched the warm, hefty hand in his own, taking care not to trip down the infinite flight of stairs. Ghastly growls and sickening shrieks reverberated through the cavernous corridors… whispers of a nameless evil in the dark. Fear spiked in his chest, its viselike grip shooting visible tremors down his little body. He looked up at the steadfast figure beside him, seeking comfort and security in the familiar face. The man squeezed the little hand reassuringly, his bristly beard obscuring his lips but failing to mask the benign look in his eyes._

_At long last, they reached the bottom step and followed their escorts down a dingy hall lit with sconces. Their shadows shifted and warped with the firelight, ghosts tracing their movements. They turned a corner and continued along another lengthy passage, passing iron bars that ran from floor to ceiling. The sounds of wailing grew considerably in these halls… a cacophony of despair. The young boy huddled closer to his protector, pressing up against his thick woolen overcoat._

_After rounding one last corner, a single cell came into view, dark and imposing. The two guards took their places at the entrance and the visitors approached, placing a girth of six feet between them and the bars. The boy peered into the dim space, leaning against the sturdy arm at his side. A rickety wooden bed frame with a thin mat and scraggly sheet was pushed against the wall and a chamber pot lie opposite to it—the only objects present._

_Aside from the one that moved._

_A shadowed figure sat crouched in the corner, fidgeting restlessly. Rags adorned its body, consisting of knee-length drawstring trousers and a filthy shredded pullover. It pulled and tugged at long colorless hair that fell unkempt around its shoulders, its face shrouded in darkness. The boy felt an arm enclose his shoulders, drawing him closer to the warm body beside him._

_“Let’s make this quick, Sargio. For both our sakes.”_

_The crouched figure jolted as if electrified, then froze. A minute passed as it stayed in its huddled position, unflinching. Then, slowly, it tilted its head in the two visitors’ direction, its hands clasped to its hair._

_“Intruders,” a low, gravelly voice answered, obviously male. “Shouldn’t be here. Get out.”_

_“It’s you who’s the criminal, Sargio,” the bearded visitor snapped, holding tighter to the boy’s shoulder. “Need I remind you that the only reason we’re here is due to the boy’s request. Don’t you think this is a poor way to conduct yourself? Especially in front of your son?”_

_The prisoner wrung his hands in his hair, yanking out mousy strands. “And you’d know all about conducting yourself, wouldn’t you, Smith?” he growled. “You stole him away from me.”_

_“And I’d do so again and again if it meant keeping him safe from you,” Smith retorted, his eyes narrowed angrily. “You’re a murderer, Sargio—and even madder than I thought to think I’d ever leave him with someone like you.”_

_“I’m his_ father, _you old miser!” the prisoner howled, rising to his feet. The boy cowed, burying his face in his grandfather’s side._

_“You murdered an innocent family!” Smith fired back. “And for what? To get back at the father for your hurt feelings?!”_

_“THEY GOT WHAT THEY DESERVED!” the captive screamed, darting forward and grasping the cell bars. Smith threw an arm forward and tugged the small boy behind him, shielding him from the frightening display. “MAKE_ HIM _SEE WHAT IT’S LIKE TO BE ALONE!”_

_The man’s face caught the light. Enraged gray eyes and bared teeth aggravated his haggard appearance, painting him in a feral light. Yet despite his ghastly countenance, hints of youthfulness were suggested by his leveled skin—the curvature of his jaw._

_Smith shook his head, backing away from the bars with the boy. “You disgust me. All this time you’ve called yourself alone when you’ve had your boy depending on you… and now you’ve failed him. I should have recognized the signs after Sally died. I should have—”_

_It was as if a switch had flipped in the frantic prisoner. He released the iron bars as if burned, retreating a few steps backward. He sank to his knees with shuddering breaths, clearly agitated. His hands covered his face in horror as his eyes peeked through the gaps in his fingers, staring directly across at the small boy who watched from behind his grandfather._

_“My boy… my only child,” he whined, his voice an octave higher than before. “You… you know it’s not true, don’t you? You know your father is innocent—he had nothing to do with it! It was the voices… they made him do it. They_ made _him, Link!”_

_The boy gasped as if the breath was knocked out of him—a knife in the chest. His eyes locked with the man’s in the cell and he shivered, captivated by eyes that looked so much like his own._

_Smith threw out a hand to block his grandson from sight, appalled. “This was a mistake,” he whispered, guiding the boy away from the cell. “We shouldn’t have come down here. You’re dangerous, Sargio. You’re unhinged, unpredictable, and violent. We won’t be coming back.”_

_“I’m innocent!” the man cried again, sobs wracking his body as he collapsed on the hard stone floor. “You have to believe me! You must believe me! Link… baby… I know_ you _believe me! You know I’ll take care of you! Don’t leave your father to rot like this!”_

_As the pair took their leave with the guards, the prisoner’s wails rang vehemently down the halls, just as they did in the mind of the young boy. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to ignore the burning as he allowed his grandfather to guide him through the castle and to the bright daylight outside._

* * *

“So… did he say why? Or how long they’d be gone?”

“No, nothing. Just that they were stepping outside for a while. That was it.”

“How serious was it?”

“...I don’t know.”

“They’re not planning on going tonight, are they? It’s well past midnight.”

“I don’t _know,_ Twi. I told you: Smith came in and took Four outside with him, and they’ve been gone ever since. That’s all I know.”

The Hylian Champion paced the front sitting room restlessly, his eyes darting back and forth between the dark window and the group of nervous, brooding heroes. It had been over an hour since Four’s grandfather barged in and dropped the news about Four’s father, and none of them had heard anything since. Not that any of them knew Four’s family history—but from the sound of things, it wasn’t a light matter.

“Wild, can you _please_ sit down?” the Hero of Legend urged, poised on the arm of a plush chair with his arms crossed. “Just looking at you is making me jittery.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, Legend,” the long-haired hero snapped, shooting the other teen a dirty look. “I didn’t realize I was the only one around here who cared.”

“We’re _all_ worried about Four,” Time assured from his place against the wall as the two heroes glared daggers at each other, “but there isn’t much we can do at this point. In the meantime, let’s do what we can to keep level heads and lend our support to Four when he returns.”

Wild huffed, wrapping his arms around himself as he turned back to stare out the sightless window. He wasn’t sure why he was having such a large reaction to something he was in no part involved in; but after seeing his little friend’s sickened expression to his grandfather’s revelation, he knew in his gut their company would soon be treading deep waters. 

It was enough to set his anxiety off, and in turn, everyone else’s in the house.

“Wild… please,” his mentor pleaded, moving forward. “Just—sit with us for now?” The pelt-wearing hero extended a hand. “We’ll figure this out. Trust me.”

The blue-garbed hero stared at the offered palm, hesitating. He looked around at the other group members, each eyeing him with concern. He glanced down at those sitting on the floor and locked eyes with the Chosen Hero. Sky smiled encouragingly, scooting over and patting the space beside him in invitation. 

Sighing in defeat, Wild approached his fluffy-haired companion and sat on the woven rug next to him, Twilight following suit on Wild’s opposite side. The Hero of the Wild leaned forward and rested his forehead on his hands, allowing Sky to rub soft circles on his upper back.

For a while, they sat like this, attentive to the sounds of the distant nightlife outside. Hyrule lay on his stomach, playing with a thread of the rug; Wind lounged back in the armchair where Legend was perched, struggling to stay awake; Time stood leaning against the wall; and Warrior occupied a wooden chair, a foot crossed over his thigh and an arm slung across Wind’s armchair.

Suddenly, the front door opened and Grandfather Smith entered with a sullen Four trailing closely behind him. Wild and Twilight jumped to their feet as the rest of the group straightened apprehensively.

Upon finding all of his grandson’s friends awake in the living room, Smith paused. “Boys,” he said with a perfunctory nod. Then, he hurried past the group and ascended the stairs to his bedroom, the steps creaking with every footfall.

Four remained by the door with crossed arms, staring at the floor as he tried to work his face into a neutral expression. Wild edged forward, clutching at an elbow in discomfort. 

“Are you… all right, Four?”

The little smithy worked his bottom lip between his teeth. He continued staring at the floor, avoiding eye contact.

“There’s been a bit of a… family emergency, I guess,” he muttered vaguely. “I don’t mean to drop this on you guys, but I’m going out tomorrow. It looks like your sword will have to wait, Wild.” He hugged himself tighter. “I’m sorry.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Wild exchanged a look with Twilight. His mentor stepped forward, a hand rubbing the back of his head. “How long will you both be gone?”

“Shouldn’t be long,” Four clipped. He paused, seeming to debate with himself. “And Grandfather’s not coming. I’m going alone.”

The group members eyed each other warily. The Hero of Time pushed off from the wall, coming to stand next to Twilight. “Is there anything you need from us?” he asked, his singular good eye searching the little hero. “Are you sure you’ll be all right?”

Four continued working his bottom lip between his teeth, his arms crossed defensively across his chest. A moment passed before his shoulders lifted in a barely perceptible shrug.

“...I dunno.”

It was as if an unseen power took hold of Wild’s tongue, bypassing the sensible part of his brain. Before he knew it, the words were falling out of his mouth. “You won’t be alone, Four,” he said. “I’ll come with you.”

There was silence.

When Four failed to give a response, Wild turned to observe his companions. Twilight’s nose was scrunched up as if he had eaten something unpleasant, and Warrior was hiding his face with a hand. Legend stared at him as if he had grown a second head.

“Wild...” Four began, his voice strained. “I’m… not sure you want to do that.”

Wild’s voice suddenly stuck in his throat. Why had he suggested going along in the first place? He wasn’t sure he had a valid answer, wasn’t even sure if that was appropriate to suggest. He was aware that many in the company had estranged or difficult family situations—himself included—so it remained an unspoken rule that these topics best be avoided. It wasn’t even like he and Four were particularly close. He had only felt in his heart that it was the right thing to do. 

Especially after all his little friend had done in his favor… 

The Hero of the Four Sword let out a lengthy sigh, shifting his weight between his feet. “Listen. I appreciate the sentiment, but it’s not a good idea. Grandfather Smith is upset enough that I'm going as it is. My father… he’s…”

His eyes squeezed shut and he put his hands to his temples, as if warding off a headache. “He’s not… all there. Not a good person.” He winced. “The last time I saw him was almost 10 years ago. He’s in the castle prison… if that answers your question.”

The little hero gave a brief shake of his head and turned away, as if afraid he had said too much. “I don’t understand why this is happening now. I… don’t even know if I should.” He dropped his hands to his sides, clenching them into fists. “But… I feel compelled to go. Even if he forbids Grandfather Smith from coming.”

Wild took in the sight of his younger friend, who glared at a spot on the rug. He wasn’t sure what kind of thoughts ran amuck in Four’s mind, and he was even less sure about what Four thought about him coming along. What he _did_ know was that he had immense respect for Four. It couldn’t have been easy being so forthcoming about something this personal when he didn’t have to be.

He wasn’t sure he would have been as candid.

“You have our support, Four,” the long-haired hero offered, inclining his head. “And also my company… if that’s what you’d like.”

Twilight faced his protégé, his expression full of misgiving. “Wild, I don’t know if this is a good idea either. It might not be a… pleasant experience. For either of you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Wild retorted, narrowing his eyes at the older hero.

“It means that I don’t want you doing something you’ll regret.” The blue-eyed hero folded his arms, frowning. “You have a lot on your plate too.”

The champion glowered at his companion, upset by what was implied. That he couldn’t handle it. “I’m capable of making my own decisions, Twi. And besides, this is up to Four.” He looked back to the younger teen. “It’s his choice.”

The little hero with the multicolored tunic continued clenching his fists, his eyes shifting between different points on the ground. Gradually, his gaze drifted up to Wild—a scrutinizing look that was returned by the hero in blue.

_You can trust me,_ the champion’s eyes implored.

With another sigh, Four shut his eyes and readjusted the green bandana on his head. “Let me sleep on it,” he uttered, sweeping strands of hair out of his face. “As far as tonight goes, you’re all welcome to whatever we have. Sorry for the lack of beds, but feel free to roll out your mats in here. I’ll be upstairs. Good night.”

And with that, the young smithy took his leave, exiting up the same flight of stairs as his grandfather.

There was silence in the sitting room as the eight heroes stared into their laps—a discomforting quiet that each was afraid to break. From his position on the floor, the Hero of Hyrule sat up and stretched, muttering something about retrieving his bedroll. Taking that as their cue, the others followed suit and began establishing their sleeping arrangements.

As Wild prepared his makeshift bed by the window, the Hero of Twilight approached him warily, his bedroll under an arm. He clasped his protégé’s shoulder, staring intently into his eyes.

“You know I trust you, Wild,” he said softly. “But something doesn’t feel right. The timing of this can’t be a coincidence. Just… be careful. And look after Four.”

* * *

The two heroes made their way down lavish halls, their footsteps muffled by thick crimson carpet. Massive stained glass windows two stories tall beamed down on them, the sunlight scattering crystalline colors onto polished granite floors. Royal blue banners bearing the Hyrulean crest hung from above, the signature triangles imprinted in gold. The pair walked side-by-side, one half a pace behind the other as they took the west wing and strode down another lengthy corridor toward a set of sleek double doors.

From the corner of his eye, Wild observed the Hero of the Four Sword. Despite his small stature, the hero’s little legs carried him briskly down the hall, enough to where Wild had to trot every few steps to keep up with him. The smithy’s gaze was fixed straight ahead, the traveler’s pouch at his hip bouncing with every step. He muttered things softly under his breath—things that Wild couldn’t quite catch.

They had set off for the castle mid-morning as a gloomy sky loomed overhead. After a silent breakfast, Four privately pulled Wild aside into the adjoining forge chamber. He accepted the Hylian Champion’s offer, reminding him that this wouldn’t be a comfortable visit and was only happening in the hope that Four would receive some answers. Lastly, he urged Wild not to see him any differently after what he might find.

Wild would have never dreamt of doing so.

After submitting their spear and sword to the guardsmen at the door, the pair was guided by an escort down a spiraling staircase, where both the lighting and temperature dropped substantially. As they descended, Wild glanced over and was met by the sight of his friend grimacing in pain, a hand held to his head.

“Four? What’s wrong?” the champion asked, concerned. “Should we stop?”

The little smithy shook his head, his shoulder-length hair covering his face. “No, m’fine. Just a headache.”

They were met by another pair of guards at the bottom, who led them down dingy hallways ringing with horrific sounds. Despite knowing that the land’s worst criminals were housed in these cells, Wild couldn’t help but empathize with their cries as he observed the grimy floor and off-putting sour smells.

It was awful down here.

They rounded the last corner and were brought to a solitary chamber with thick cast iron bars. As the guards flanked the entrance, Wild moved aside to the shadowy corner and Four moved forward to the center. Immediately apparent was a man sitting sideways on a thin mat, his feet planted firmly on the floor as he faced the opposite wall. 

He looked to be in his late thirties, his pale skin free of wrinkles. Though dirty and disheveled, the man’s posture was straight-backed and dignified, his eyes closed as if in a trance. His long hair was pulled back in a low ponytail, the ratty threads falling down his rag-covered back.

A shaky exhale sounded in the room. Wild turned to Four.

Like the previous night, the little hero’s hands were clenched into fists, barely concealing his tremors. His eye twitched sharply as he stared into the cell at the man before him—the tension palpable.

The silence dragged on before the man in the cell opened his eyes. His head remained in place as his gaze shifted to the side, examining the teen on the opposite side of the bars.

“You came,” he drawled, his deep voice scratchy from disuse. “I didn’t think you would. Not after last time. Your hair… it’s so long…”

Four remained silent, his eyes narrowed at the speaker. After a minute, the man shut his eyes and continued facing the wall, his frame as still as the stone around him.

“I’ve heard rumors of your travails across Hyrule,” he resumed. “Oh yes. Your victories, your struggles… your newfound glory.” He paused. “Though if your height proves any indication of your renown, I would conclude the rumors to be false.”

The little hero stared unblinkingly at the prisoner, giving no sign that he paid any heed to the insult. His feet remained rooted to the ground, unwavering.

“Why have you summoned me here?” he murmured, eyes locked on the shadowy figure. “All this time and you’ve never requested to see me. Not once. Why now?”

The man inhaled, his chest expanding and then contracting with the release of a controlled breath. His voice dropped to a low whisper. 

“Because it wouldn’t have been worth it. I know how much I scare you.”

Four flinched—the first time he had since entering the cell. He stepped forward, clenching his fists even more tightly. “You don’t scare me,” he growled. “I stopped being scared a long time ago.”

“Perhaps,” the prisoner droned, his eyes still shut. “Now that you’re older. Now that you’ve… proven yourself.”

The Hero of the Four Sword scoffed, scowling in disgust. “I never had anything to prove. Least of all to _you_.”

Slowly, the man’s eyes reopened, a crease forming between his brows. 

“_Watch yourself,_ boy.”

A threat.

The smithy grit his teeth. He plowed on, undeterred by the warning. “You’re a felon. You know you did wrong, and you don’t care. You’ve never cared. You’re deranged and need serious help, but you’ve never wanted it. You’ve torn our family apart, way more than mom ever did when she died.”

_“You know nothing of which you speak!”_ the prisoner roared, rising to his feet. The change between his stark calm and his unbridled anger was alarming. His face adopted a grisly appearance, increasing in intensity with each passing second. “I had every right to cut down those miserable whelps! I had every—”

There was another abrupt transformation in the man’s demeanor as he gasped, his mouth falling open. He sprinted forward and slammed into the bars, the metallic _thwack_ reverberating throughout the dungeon. Wild edged further into the shadows, horrified by the scene in front of him.

The little hero stood his ground.

_“It wasn’t me!”_ the man breathed, eyes frantic and bloodshot. “I am guiltless! You have to believe me! It was _them. They_ forced me to do it!”

Four grimaced, looking down as if it physically pained him to stare any longer. He turned to the side, angling his body away from the madman.

“...Why’d you do it?” he whispered. “Why’d you listen to the voices? You knew it was wrong. You could have gotten _help_.”

“They _consume_ me, my son! They command my _every move!_ It is futile to disobey… they have all control.” The prisoner shuddered, sliding down the bars. “Surely _you_ must understand! You are the blood of my blood! You’re my only son!”

Four remained in place, dejected. A few breaths of silence passed before he shut his eyes, turning his back to the prisoner. 

“It takes more than blood to be family,” he uttered, barely audible. “I hoped things would change, but it looks like I was wrong. I’m not your son. You’re sick… and you have no power over me.” He took a step toward the exit, his eyes downcast. “Come on, Wild. We’re leaving.”

As Four approached the exit, a shudder ran through Wild as if he had plunged into an arctic abyss. It gripped him forcefully, turning his insides to ice. Whirling around, he searched the cell, attempting to identify the source. Suddenly, he locked gazes with the man behind the bars, his heart constricting in his chest when he saw red irises glaring back at him.

_“I thought I asked you to come alone, little hero.”_

A flash and a whirl of light, and the guards froze, immobilized to their posts. Wild felt himself shouting, but couldn’t hear past the ringing in his ears as another blaze of light enveloped his companion. It whisked the Hero of the Four Sword away, transporting him behind the bars of the cell where a pair of red eyes bore down on him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> !!!


	3. Chapter 3

_“So this is the elemental sanctuary, then,” quacked the beaked accomplice from its perch on his head. “This is where we can infuse your blade with the power of the elements… Yes, there seems to be a pedestal for your sword right in the middle there!”_

_He stepped forward, admiring the ornate turquoise chamber. Stone knights brandished their swords on both sides of the walkway that led to a pedestal surrounded by four pillars—one pillar for each element. It was only after acquiring these four elemental essences that he could imbue the reforged Picori Blade with the power to break Vaati’s curse on Zelda._

_Two down, two remaining._

_The hero in green walked past the knighted statues, ascending the stairs. As he approached the pedestal on the raised platform, he felt an unseen energy pulsating in the air around him, making his hair stand on end. He unsheathed his sword, gripping it tightly in both hands. With a downward thrust of his blade, he locked the sword into place in the pedestal. Immediately, he felt the earth and fire essences begin working their magic as beams of red and purple light stretched from the two columns to the sword. The blade began to emit a vibrant glow, its vibrations felt at the ground beneath his feet. When the tremors ceased, the green-clad hero took hold of the thrumming hilt, pulling it from the insert. He lifted it into the air, allowing its glow to fill the chamber with holy light._

_He felt his heart leap within him._ Yes! _he thought._ Things are finally starting to take shape.

_From behind him, a rumbling noise grew in volume. He turned to find a large stone plaque appearing out of thin air, blocking the way forward. He approached it curiously, squinting at the unrecognizable hieroglyphs that riddled its surface._

_“Hmmm, let’s see…_ ‘Fill your sword with power and walk over the glowing tile,’_” Ezlo translated for him. His capped companion bounced in place on his head, squawking impatiently. “Well? What are you waiting for? Try it, Link!”_

_Link looked down at the tile in front of the bas-relief that was, sure enough, glowing brightly on the floor. He planted his feet above the square._

_A peculiar feeling came over him then. A tingling at the back of his mind; a pull deep in his gut._

_He raised his powered sword into the air, letting it charge with light. Just before the vibrations became too much, he swung the blade back in a wide arc, spinning the infused light around him._

_And that’s when he_ **broke.**

_He felt his soul sever violently from his body, his consciousness tearing at the seams. His mind split into the ether, particulates of matter that were neither here nor there. The essence of his being seemed to shatter and then join back in with itself, conglomerating into separate entities that were entirely independent and yet linked at the core. From the void emerged two versions of himself—one clothed in green and the other in red._

_The green copy of himself burned with confidence, shining forth with courage and the drive to achieve his objective. The red copy radiated hope, a whirlwind of eagerness and elation swirling in his chest. He felt them as distinctly as he would night and day, and yet felt his overall intelligence fused with both—tangible individual bodies occupying the same mind. The most fascinating and horrifying sensation._

_For an instant, the duplicates stared at one another, utter disbelief mirrored in their faces. Another flash of light, and their images flickered into the air, converging back together as one._

_He broke_ **again.**

_The merging process was excruciating—by far the most painful experience Link had ever endured, both physically and mentally. It felt as if two sledgehammers had simultaneously slammed into his brain from either side, like he was two independent pieces of metal being forged into one. He screamed, clutching his head in agony as he cried with a voice that once more occupied a single set of lungs._

_He wasn’t sure how long he lay collapsed there, writhing on the ground. Once he was finally able to scrounge together a single train of thought, he slowly raised himself to a sitting position, shaking from head to toe. He felt faint, sickened by the feeling that there wasn’t enough air in the room._

_“Whoa! You just split in two!” Ezlo exclaimed, oblivious to his current ill state of being. “So this is the power of the White Sword!”_

No. 

No no no no no.

This can’t be happening. This _cannot_ be happening. 

This isn’t a thing. This _won’t_ be a thing, no no no this can’t be real, this _isn’t_ real, it’s all a dream, I’ll wake any second now, any _second_ I tell you, no no no I won’t let myself go there, won’t let myself fall apart, won’t let myself become _my father,_ I won’t I won’t I won’t I WON’T—

_“I guess you can double yourself like that every time you—Link? What’s wrong? Link!”_

_The little hero sat gasping frantically on the hard ceramic floor, his eyes wet. He clawed at his shirt collar, his chest a frenzy of motion as he struggled to breathe. The incessant voices overwhelmed his mind, taking control and inhibiting his ability to think straight._

_The burden of a divided mind._

* * *

Deadly red eyes.

_They had seen this before, and not just in nightmares._

The glint of a knife, razor sharp. A guttural roar, and the prisoner lunged at Four, slashing wildly in the open air.

_Panic._

_“Four!”_ Wild cried as he body-slammed the bars, using all his might to bash in the cell door. He threw his shoulder into it, pushing against it so that it would break. Bend. _Anything._

No yield.

Inside the cramped cell, the possessed madman raged, slicing the air to get to his captive. Four dodged and weaved between the strikes, his nimble legs a flurry of motion as he did whatever he could to avoid his attacker. He leapt onto the mattress, using it as a springboard to propel himself away. He threw the bedsheet over the maniac in the attempt to blind and confuse him, only to have it be hacked to shreds. He grabbed the chamber bucket, using it as a shield against the deadly weapon that struck out again and again. A third strike and the bucket splintered, sending bits of wood in all directions; a fourth strike and he raised his hands to protect his face, his shield arm sliced in the process. He threw himself to the floor and rolled underneath his assailant, emerging on the other side.

“Wild…” the injured hero panted, gripping the wound on his forearm. _“Help.”_

The older hero dashed to the lifeless guards by the entryway as the scuffle continued behind him. Seeing a knight’s halberd in the hand of one, Wild worked to pry back the fingers so that the weapon would be released. When that refused to work, he made to break the guard’s arm, desperate to aid in the fight of his periled friend.

The guard was unmoving—sturdy as stone. 

Wild swore, beginning to lose his nerve. He ran back to the cell bars, where Four had somehow managed to pin the attacking arm of the madman to the ground. The little hero sported a fresh cut on his cheek, blood running down his neck as he used his whole body to hold the weapon stationary. The attacker screamed with fury, tearing and kicking at the teen with his other limbs.

The Hylian Champion pulled at his hair, able to do nothing except watch in terror. He scrunched up his face in concentration, trying to reason past the fear.

_Come on, Link! Think through this!_

It was then when he looked down and saw the rectangular device hanging from his hip.

_Of course._

_Idiot._

He unhooked his Sheikah Slate from his belt, his fingers flying through the runes on the screen. He selected the yellow lock symbol, targeted the device at the attacker, and tapped the button.

The madman froze, suspended in time. Using this borrowed time, Four rolled well out of reach from his assailant, his injured arm pressed against his chest. Thrusting a hand into the traveler’s pouch at his waist, he withdrew a cap much like one Wild had in his inventory. Four slammed the hat onto his head and Wild watched as he began to diminish in size—shrinking until he was completely out of sight.

When the little hero failed to reappear, Wild’s heart dropped into his stomach. He whirled around, searching for his companion in the surrounding space. He heard the stasis timer ticking away, counting down the seconds before the prisoner regained control.

_Where?_

_Where is he?!_

In an instant, Four shot up from the ground at Wild’s side, startling the champion. The injured hero crammed his hat back into his pouch and took hold of Wild’s wrist, pulling him toward the exit.

“What… you…?!”

“No time,” Four wheezed, wiping blood away from his cheek as time quite literally ran out on Wild’s stasis rune. “Come on, let’s _move_.”

They ran full speed towards the staircase without a backward glance, jumping multiple stairs at a time. Guards all around them stood paralyzed, the curse extending its reach through the entire castle. The two heroes immune to its power burst through the doors up top, gasping for air. Wild turned in circles, scanning the vicinity.

_Where…?_

He spotted them a few paces away, secured to the wall and shielded by a protective wooden cage. He retrieved his Sheikah Slate once more, selecting the bomb feature. A cerulean orb appeared in his hands and he tossed it at the cage. It detonated, sending splinters and their weapons flying. His spear smacked the wall and hurtled toward him, whereas the Four Sword went flying over their heads and out of reach.

Wild caught his spear just as his comrade ran towards his sword. Suddenly, a side door burst open, spilling forth a squad of soldiers. They formed ranks and leveled their weapons at the pair of heroes, blocking the exits and hiding the prone weapon from view. Their eyes glowed the same red that Four’s father’s had downstairs—a threat they couldn’t escape.

The champion in blue stepped forward, holding his spear out defensively. The two heroes drew close together, trying to keep all their enemies in sight. From the corner of his eye, Wild locked gazes with Four. An almost imperceptible nod from his small ally, and Wild knew they were synced.

_I’ll cover for you._

The Hero of the Wild darted forward, taking on the five guards before him. He swept his spear in a wide arc, knocking one of the guards to the ground. In the same fluid motion, he swung the butt of his spear around and thwacked another hard in the center of the forehead, bringing him down as well. 

As he parried the thrust of a broadsword, another swung in his direction, catching his cloak and tearing it from his shoulders. Wild stumbled and threw himself out of the way of a third strike, whose wielder overcompensated and was thrown off balance. Wild pressed his advantage and elbowed the guard in the face, feeling his nose break in the process. 

_Please,_ Wild thought. _I don’t want to hurt you._

No sooner had the thought entered his mind when a claymore rained down on him from above, forcing him to deflect. The weight of the blade proved too much as his spear was cleaved in two, splintering in his hands. 

Adrenaline surged through his veins as he chucked the broken pieces at the offending guard, bracing himself in his ready stance. Immediately following came a thrust of a halberd, which he sidestepped quickly. He grabbed the shaft of the weapon and wrenched it away from the wielder, using it as a bludgeoner rather than the piercing tool it was meant to be.

As more guards continued joining the fray, Wild felt the sweat start to trickle down his back, his stamina giving out. 

Too many enemies.

Only one of him.

A shield thrust into his head from behind, crashing into his skull with the force of a rampaging lynel. He cried out in pain, the halberd spinning out of his hands as he slammed into the wall and collapsed. He blinked rapidly, seeing stars as the attacking guardsmen approached. He tried to rise to his feet but only succeeded in rolling over as his dizziness overcame him.

_This is it,_ he thought as the blurry image of a sword hovered over his head. _I’m sorry, Four._

He held his breath and braced for the impact.

A flash of red, and the swordsman fell dazed to the ground. A whir of blue, and the surrounding guards fell back, preoccupied with an unexpected threat that surpassed the incapacitated champion.

Wild blinked, trying to clear the dancing dark spots from his vision.

_Who…?_

As his environment slowly came into focus, he noticed blurs of color sweeping the room. Violet, blue, red, and green moved about the hall in a whirlwind, leaping and dancing and tackling the assailants with ease. The colors began taking shapes, and from the shapes… 

These colors… these _beings._

Was that… were they…

_Four?_

Sure enough, the little hero’s likenesses came into focus, each embodying everything that made up Four: the green headband; the shoulder-length blonde hair; the short stature; the multicolored tunic, split four ways among them; the Four Sword, duplicated. With four voices, they cried as one—a cohesive unit that intimately knew each of its parts. Like cogs in a well-oiled machine.

Four pieces. A single system.

The little warriors made short work of the remaining guards, working together and calling out to each other with every move. Green and Blue attacked a guard from both sides, easily overcoming him. As Red leapt onto the bent knee of Violet, he was catapulted upwards, pommeling a guard’s helmet with the hilt of his sword as he twirled in the air. The guard toppled and lay still… the last to go down.

For a moment, all was silent.

The four warriors stood panting, their brows gleaming with perspiration. Hesitantly, they turned to stare at Wild, who leaned awestruck against the wall. 

Before anyone could say a word, the four individuals began to glow. Their outlines turned to hazy mist, blurring their features and distorting their shapes. Suddenly, they shattered into light and converged to a singular center point, merging together until the Hero of the Four Sword stood as one. 

Four was briefly suspended before he fell to his knees with a groan. He dropped the Four Sword, clutching his head between his hands.

Just as Wild made to stand and attend to his distressed friend, the castle walls started to shimmer, rippling in and out of focus. A familiar tingle washed over Wild, goosebumps erupting over his skin. Like the turning of a page, they were whisked away, leaving the castle and all of its plagues behind.


	4. Chapter 4

_He sat alone in a holding chamber right outside the throne room. It was a small room, private and detached from the king’s hall, but it reeked of elegance. A brass chandelier twinkled brightly overhead, its candles unlit. Paneled windows admitted entrance for natural light, illuminating the extravagant furniture around him. High-backed wooden chairs with plush lavender cushions made up the room’s perimeter, and two benches draped in embroidered cloth were arranged in the middle. Glossy stone walls encircled the area, serving as an echo chamber for his muffled whimpers._

_He wasn’t sure how long he sat waiting for his grandfather to return. It could have been minutes… hours._

_It didn’t matter._

_He rubbed at the wetness that wouldn’t stop falling from his eyes, trying to restrain his gasps. Pitiful noises escaped his lips, indifferent to his attempts to quell them. His entire frame shook uncontrollably, unchecked by his convulsing lungs. He clutched at his stomach, his insides twisting painfully as he tried not to think of the dark space that existed in the castle beneath his feet._

_“...Are you crying?”_

_He startled, his muscles spasming as his head jerked up in surprise._

_A young girl with long golden hair peeked out from the open entryway, a hand braced on the doorframe. She appeared to be around his age—maybe even his same height. She was adorned in jewels, poised with a grace that matched the majestic castle setting. A thick gold belt cinched her pink floor-length dress, from which hung a sash that displayed the royal crest. Her bright emerald eyes gazed keenly back at him, complementing the regal ruby diadem that glinted on her head._

_“Don’t cry,” she soothed, approaching as if he were a wounded animal. “Maybe I can help you.”_

_She came close and sat with him on the bench, her brow wrinkled in concern. The boy felt his chest flare in shame, turning his insides to molten lava. He bit his lip and looked away, not wanting her to see his red, blotchy face._

_“Are you lost? I can help you if you’re lost,” she stated, her voice like a gentle caress. “I know where everything is in this castle. It’s basically my home, so daddy lets me go wherever I want. Well… mostly wherever I want.”_

_The boy stayed quiet, working through the little gasps that cropped up in his breathing. The girl glanced around the room, trying to find something to say. Suddenly, she drew in a sharp breath, perking up in realization._

_“Oh! Is that your dad visiting with my dad right now?” she asked. “I like his green bandana. Oh, and I like his beard too. It’s even bigger than my dad’s!”_

_The boy’s heart constricted painfully, the empty feeling in his chest returning full force. Tears blurred his vision once again, and he shut his eyes as he started to cry._

_The girl stared into her lap, confused by his perplexing reaction. For a while, they sat side-by-side, the girl crestfallen as the boy beside her continued to weep._

_“I’m sorry you’re so sad,” she whispered. She turned to face him once more, her emerald eyes shining affectionately. “Do you want to be my friend? You can be my friend. I promise I won’t make you cry.”_

_Something in the boy’s demeanor changed right then. His shoulders began to relax, releasing some of the tension that had gripped him for so long. His eyes quit stinging so sharply, settling for a slow trickle. He took a deep breath, exhaling with a shaky shudder._

_“What’s your name?”_

_He sniffled, wiping at his eyes. “Link.”_

_“Hi, Link.” She smiled. “I’m Zelda.”_

_Gradually, he lifted his head and returned her gaze, his eyes glistening. Her infectious smile was like that of the sun, warming him down to his toes. It was caring and genuine—a sharp contrast to the bitter ache he had been feeling in his chest for months._

_Hesitantly, he returned her smile with a watery one of his own, touched by the sincerity of her words. Pleased, she took hold of his little hand in her own, and Link let her—reveling in the feeling of having found a kindred spirit._

* * *

A balmy breeze swept over the meadow, rustling the individual blades of grass. Fluffy white clouds drifted under the bright blue sky, serene and beautiful. Butterflies sailed from flower to flower, their colorful wings fluttering in the wind. The sun shone brightly above, a beacon of light and hope upon the world.

So much for his sensitive skin.

The Hero of the Four Sword lay on his back in the open field, away from the copse of trees where the rest of his comrades gathered. He fingered the bandage on his right forearm, pleased that the wound had stopped smarting. After reflecting on the events from the past couple days, he recognized that, all things considered, things really weren’t that bad. They had their lives, for starters; they hadn’t run into any trouble since reappearing in Warrior’s Hyrule; and they knew the threat they had faced in Four’s homeland had been removed, as it became obvious to them that the reason they had warped there in the first place was because of the enemy’s cunning plan to get one of them killed.

He was safe. His friends and family were safe. No harm done.

If only the rest of the group felt the same.

Ever since he and Wild arrived in the forest surrounding Warrior’s castle walls and rejoined the group (who had all been teleported as well), nobody had looked at him quite right. After being caught up to speed on what occurred in the castle prison, they treated Four as if he were glass—glass that would shatter upon the slightest impact. Warrior was overly polite and stared when he thought Four wasn’t looking. Legend and Hyrule eyed him as if he were diseased. Sky kept sending him pitying looks. Twilight and Time would go the extra mile to ensure he was comfortable, satisfied, needed anything. Wind asked him confusing questions, like if he wanted to use his telescope to feel better.

And that wasn’t even accounting for the Hylian Champion himself.

At first, Wild was glued to his hip. When the group reunited and began tending to Four’s injuries, the blue-clad champion hovered like a fairy over his shoulder, constantly asking if he was okay or if he needed to talk. Exhausted and overwhelmed, Four pushed the champion away, opting to sleep through the days as his body recovered and his mind processed what had happened. After taking the hint, Twilight ordered his protégé to bedrest, attributing Wild’s clingy behavior to his head injury.

Initially, Four was relieved, preferring his space as he recuperated. Now Wild seemed to avoid him altogether.

Not that Four could blame him after what he’d seen.

As the young hero lay listening to the breeze with closed eyes, a shadow passed over his face, blocking the sunlight. He quirked an eye open and was met by the sight of the said champion himself, who looked down on him with unease.

Four hummed in acknowledgement, staring back at the hero. “Nice of you to finally join me.”

The champion shuffled his feet in the grass, putting a hand to the back of his neck. “I didn’t… I just thought…” 

Wild sighed, dropping to the ground next to Four. He lay on his back, mirroring his friend’s reclined position. 

“I thought you’d want to be alone for a time. Since you’ve slept for so long and all.” He rested an arm across his face, covering his eyes from the glare of the sun. “I’m sorry.”

Four followed a large puffy cloud with his eyes as it floated across the sky. “It’s nothing personal. It isn’t like I’ve made it easy for you anyways. I know my… _anomaly_ is a little hard to get used to.”

There was a pause as Wild shifted uncomfortably in the grass. His mouth opened in reply, only to stall for a few seconds before speaking. “I haven’t told them, you know. About… you.”

“I figured you hadn’t,” Four replied. “They aren’t looking at me as if I’m _completely_ insane yet.” He chuckled humorlessly, a laugh which wasn’t returned by his companion.

Wild lay still, his hair splayed out around him in the grass.

“...You aren’t insane, Four.”

The words sent a twinge to his chest. Four closed his eyes once more, letting out a long sigh through his nose.

“I know.”

The air sang with the sounds of the wind and the chirping of birds. Four let the breeze roll over him, a welcome chill to the heat of the sun. He picked a blade of grass, twirling it between his fingers.

“I just wish they would stop walking on eggshells around me,” he muttered.

Wild dropped his arm to the side. He turned towards his comrade, a sympathetic look etched on his face. “They’re just worried about you.”

The smithy paused, feeling the grass tickle his fingertips. “I should have realized… in hindsight, it’s pretty obvious, actually. That it was all an elaborate scheme.”

He tore the blade of grass in his hands. “Vaati used a similar trick when I was on my first quest. He brainwashed the entire kingdom, leading them astray to get what he wanted. Seems pretty clever of the enemy to hit us where we’re most vulnerable…”

He sighed, throwing the broken bits of grass to the side. “Whatever is after us must know us pretty well. I’m sorry I put you in harm’s way, Wild.” He winced, rubbing the bandage on his arm. “I guess I only hoped something would change… with my father.”

The champion listened attentively, his hands resting on his stomach. “Nothing would have changed my decision to come along. And I’m sorry that happened to you,” he said. “Are you… doing all right?”

Four fingered his Minish earring, giving the question careful thought. _Was_ he doing all right after everything that happened? He had been undoubtedly shaken by the event, but as traumatic as being attacked by his father was, Four had to admit it hadn’t surprised him. Whether his father had been possessed or not, he knew the man was prone to fits of delusion that were violent and unsightly. It was something he had prepared himself for going into it, after all. The real shocker came from the sleight-of-hand tactic utilized by their unknown adversary, who had been stalking their group since they had first met up.

“Actually,” the little hero began, drawing out the word, “I think I am. It hasn’t been easy, but… it’s been bearable. My father might never change, but I still have Grandfather Smith. And you guys.” He picked another blade of grass. “I guess sometimes we have to go through hard things to come to a better place… even if that means revealing our secrets.”

The look in Wild’s eyes as he stared at his friend was inquisitive and admiring. He pressed his lips together, considering the Hero of the Four Sword.

“...Who else knows?”

The younger hero grabbed at more grass, forming a stalk in his hands. “About the shrinking, you mean? Some of you. Twilight knows. The splitting? Well… no one till now.”

For a few minutes, Wild said nothing. His brows were furrowed in concentration, as if he were dissecting a riddle he could not solve. Puzzled, he ran a hand through his long hair and turned to his companion in agitation.

“How do you do it?” he questioned. “How can you… _hold yourself together_ like this after… after being _used_ like you were? It’s brutal. I…” Wild shut his eyes, turning back to the sky. “Sometimes I feel like I can’t even manage one of _me_.”

The smithy blanched at his comrade’s response, his mouth falling open. Suddenly, he let loose a breathy laugh, startling the other hero. Wild jerked his head back to his friend, baffled. 

“Well, that’s the kicker, isn’t it?” Four snickered, wiping at his eye. “I can’t. I _can’t_ hold myself together. I have to split. Otherwise, it gets to be too much.” He returned to his grass, shredding it in his hands as the words spilled out.

“I used to be terrified of it, you know. Of splitting. After seeing everything with my father… the voices, the multiple personalities… the _crimes_… it scared me. I didn’t want to have a fractured mind. I didn’t want to feel like I was losing my grip on reality. On myself. Especially since they say it runs in families…”

He picked at the bandage covering his cheek, his eyes adopting a faraway look. “But after growing alongside the Four Sword—after _mastering_ it—I can say I’ve come to find peace with myself. And it wasn’t just that. I had help. Zelda.”

There was a sharp intake of breath from the blue-clad champion. His lips parted in realization, a look of awe dawning on his face as he stared at the teen beside him.

“She’s the real reason I pulled through. She’s the one who saw me for who I was and helped me to see it too. That I wasn't my father. I couldn’t have gotten to this point without her. And Wild…” Four turned his head, piercing his ally with his gaze. “You don’t have to do this alone either. I know that’s a foreign concept for people like us, but it’s true. ‘Divide and conquer’ is only useful when there’s a united whole. It’s something I’m still learning, but… I like to think friends can help us remember.”

The smile on Four’s lips reached his eyes, lighting up his face. The Hero of the Wild peered back at the little hero, meeting blue with blue. Slowly, the corners of his mouth tilted up into a grin that matched his friend’s.

“You’re incredible, Four. All of you.”

“So are you,” Four returned. “And you’ve always been incredible, Wild—memories or not. The past shouldn't have to hold you captive. Just… try to remember that, maybe?”

Wild’s eyes looked past his little friend, musing on the request. With a slow tilt of his head, he nodded his affirmation, accepting Four’s plea.

The smithy looked to his hands as he continued shredding his grass. “You really came through for me back there, you know. It's hard to think what could have happened had you not been there. I…”

His voice dropped to a low murmur, the words nearly lost to the breeze.

“I don’t think I would have made it out of there if it weren’t for you.”

The Hylian Champion’s gaze softened, touched by his companion’s words. He looked to his friend consolingly, his voice lowering in turn. “I’m just glad you trusted me enough to have me come along.”

For a while, they lay like this, lost to the summery breeze and rolling clouds that glided across the sky. Despite the myriad of problems that faced their company, and despite his tendency to keep to himself, Four realized he was fortunate to count himself among friends like these. The fight was long and taxing—but it was a fight he wouldn’t have wanted to undertake with anyone else.

After a time, the smithy sat up, brushing blades of grass off his lap. He wrinkled his nose in dismay, a pinched look on his face. “It’s really too bad we’re not in my Hyrule anymore. I’m sorry about your sword, Wild.” He frowned, fingering the cuff of his sleeve. “I wish I could have finished it for you.”

Wild followed suit and rose to a sitting position as well, brushing an ant off his arm. “Nothing to be sorry for. None of us expected we’d be leaving so soon.” He looked over, smiling good-naturedly. “I appreciate the gesture.”

The Hero of the Four Sword sat toying with his sleeve, biting his lip in consternation. Then, his eyebrows shot up as if something came to mind, his mouth falling slack. Reaching down, he unhooked a bright green trinket the size of his pinky finger from a chain that hung below his belt. He proffered it to the champion, its glossy surface shining in his palm.

“I know it’s not a sword, but I want you to have this,” the smithy said. “It’s a kinstone. Or, half of one, at least. They say when you fuse two matching pieces, something good will happen.” He smiled. “For us… I like to think it already has.”

The Hero of the Wild held out his hand, letting the green stone drop into his palm. He ran his fingertips across the smooth surface, observing the clover design etched into the top. He closed his fingers around the token and glanced back at Four, his countenance beaming brightly.

“I think so too.”

As they made their way back to the campsite, Four stole a glance at the older teen who walked beside him, grateful for his friendship. In spite of his uncertainties, the little hero resolved to uncover his secret to his remaining companions in due time—determined to take his own advice. After confiding in Wild, he somehow knew he’d be accepted.

Something good was bound to happen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This little ficlet was in celebration of me finishing Minish Cap a few weeks ago. Thanks for joining me on my second-ever fic!
> 
> I've been wanting to write Four for the _longest_ time. This calm and quiet little guy is my kindred spirit, how could I not?! So, after beating MC, I sat there for a while thinking of what direction I wanted to go with this story. I knew I wanted Four to grow alongside another hero, but I wasn't sure just who. And that's when I pulled up Jojo's original sketch post of the gang.
> 
> Four's notes describe him as "confident, very quiet, calm, and collected unless 'divided.'" After taking one look at Wild's—"identity crisis due to memory loss; insecure, the only one to have failed his role as hero"—I knew I had my guy. >:]
> 
> These two have so much to learn from each other! I loved comparing and contrasting Four's confidence with Wild's insecurity, and then having this flip on its head by having Four go through crisis mode while Wild acts as his supporting backbone. It was a fun dichotomy to explore, especially when you throw in a sticky backstory with Four's father being the way that he was. How Four was able to separate himself from his father (in spite of perceived similarities) and share that with Wild was the real meat of the story for me.
> 
> Also, I can't leave without dropping a little ATLA inspiration relating to Four: "Don’t think of them as separate… because they’re not. They’re just [four] different parts of the same whole.” TY Prince Zuko <3
> 
>   
What did you think? I'd LOVE to hear from you!  
I've got a writing blog, [come say hi!](https://turtleduckscribbles.tumblr.com/)


End file.
